The Last Man
by death gaidin
Summary: After the Events of the Second David Job the team attempts to move forward with their lives. As the team begins to move forward and find happiness, one member is left behind.
1. The End?

The Last Man

This is set after the Second David Job and focuses on the team as they attempt to move forward with their lives after helping Nate to take revenge on Blackpoole.

As always this is not intended for profit and I do not own any of the rights to Leverage or its characters.

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It was Eliot that stopped first.

As the thief, hacker, grifter, and honest man all walked towards their planes the hitter, the one member of the team that had been hurt the worst by Sophie's betrayal, paused from taking the final steps towards his beautifully restored Harley. It may seem odd that the one member of the team that seemed to have the least tying him to the others would be the one to be the most upset by the end of Leverage Consulting Inc., but Eliot found something with that eclectic group of criminals that he thought that he had forsaken years ago when he first left his family's small horse ranch in the middle of nowhere. He found a place that he belonged.

He noticed immediately when the other's stopped making their exits – the concrete floor of the hanger made it easy to identify each of the thieves by the type of shoe that they were wearing.

Parker was the next to stop after Eliot. She barely made any noise as moved, but to Eliot's trained ears it was as loud as a gunshot when her Chuck Taylors stopped moving. Eliot wasn't surprised by her hesitation to leave; after all, he knew that she loved the challenges that the team provided her. With the team she was forced to push her comfort levels and experience different aspects of thievery that were completely foreign to her. At the same time she got the chance to interact with people who understood and accepted her. And that was something that she wasn't ready to give up yet.

Hardison's basketball sneakers squeaked slightly as he paused. Eliot knew that Hardison stopped for parker – sure, he saw the team as one big happy family – but Parker was the reason that Hardison couldn't leave behind. It was obvious that the hacker cared for the thief to everyone accept Parker, which made the situation even more ridiculous in Eliot's mind because he knew that Parker felt the same way about Hardison.

It was obvious when Sophie stopped walking, since the heels of her Manolo Blahniks clicked loudly against the concrete of the hangar. Eliot knew that leaving would be hard for her because of Nate. Sophie loved Nate. Everyone knew this – in fact Sophie had even confided this to the retrieval specialist one late night after she had attempted unsuccessfully to convince Nate to put down his glass of scotch and go home to rest. She had tearfully confessed to Eliot that watching Nate slowly falling apart was killing her inside. And the fact that she couldn't seem to convince him to stop only made things worse. Eliot hadn't known what to say to her at the time. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay and that Nate would eventually sort out his issues, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to the distraught woman. The truth was that Eliot had seen firsthand what would happen to a man that drowned his sorrows in alcohol before - and he knew that the results were rarely positive. He still had the scars from his step-father to prove it.

Then there was Nate. Nathan Ford would have to be conflicted by the events that had unfolded before that very moment. His entire life had been changed by a single action – an action that wouldn't have been possible without the four criminals about to walk out of his life forever. Eliot wondered what would become of Nate after that day. Nate had taken his revenge on the man that allowed his son to die, so what was he going to do now? Without revenge to fuel him, or the Leverage team to give him direction and a sense of purpose, what was left for Nate except the bottom of a bottle?

It seemed Nate didn't know the answer to that question either because he was the one that broke the tense moment that was quickly approaching the point where it would become awkward.

"Everyone wait," Nate stated quietly, but with enough conviction to carry across the hangar to the rest of the team standing with their backs towards him.

Almost as one the others turned to face him – the expressions on their faces a collection of guarded, hopeful, and anxious contemplations as they waited for the former insurance agent to say what could possibly be a life-altering statement for the group. Nate looked each member of his former team in the eye starting with Sophie, who gazed at him with hopeful, tear-streaked eyes, before turning to Parker's slightly confused expression and Hardison's anxiously optimistic face, and finally setting on Eliot. Eliot trained his features into a completely neutral expression, gazing back at Nate with a guarded and calculating expression, but internally he was just as anxious to hear what Nate was about to say as the others around him.

"The way I see it," Nate began, while tearing his gaze away from Eliot to address everyone who was present there, "There is no reason that we should all disband. After all, we work well together and we truly did make a difference. There are still others out there that need help and will have nowhere to turn without us."

Then he caught Sophie's eyes with his own - and staring directly at her he stated, "And the truth I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

When Sophie heard Nate say that she immediately broke into radiant smile and looked as if she might begin to cry again. Without a moment's hesitation she ran as fast as she could possibly manage in her impractically stylish shoes and threw herself into Nate's arms. When Parker saw Sophie and Nate embrace she turned to Hardison with her sweet impish smile and told him, "I guess your not going to have to look that hard for me after all."

"I guess not," Hardison replied happily with a giant goofy grin on his face. He encased himself in a moment of relieved happiness as he and Parker continued to stare at each other, lost in their own worlds.

Eliot, for his part, hung back from the others and observed the interactions occurring between the people that he had come to care about more strongly than he had believed was still possible for him. Nate and Sophie were talking quietly to each other, while Hardison and Parker were standing incredibly close to each one another and seemed to be just staring at each other, as if they were trying to convince themselves that this was real, and not just a fantasy. Eliot couldn't help but allow a small smile to appear on his lips as he watched the others revel in the happiness and relief that was so blatantly apparent on each of their faces. However, Eliot had always been a realist. He knew that things would change for the team forever after that point. They had to.

As Eliot took in the joyful expressions of the others he could only hope that they changed for the better. He was relieved that the team was remaining together, in fact it seemed to soothe the dull ache that had resided in the pit of his stomach since the team had decided to disband for good after ruining Blackpoole, but he still couldn't find it in him to allow himself to revel in the moment, as his teammates were doing. Maybe it was due to a lifetime of paranoia and betrayal that was common for someone living in the cruel reality of the retrieval business, or maybe it was due to watching every one important to him in his life turning their backs and leave him in the past, but Eliot couldn't help but feel that there more problems for the Leverage team that had yet to occur.

He became so preoccupied by his silent musings that it took him a moment to realize that the others had formed a small group in the middle of the hangar. Having finished venting their pent up emotions, the rest of the team turned to Eliot expectantly, waiting for him to join them. Eliot took a moment to shake the feelings of uncertainty and foreboding out of his head before taking the first step towards the center of the hangar.

It wasn't until he reached the others and the team was once again complete that Eliot realized it.

He was last once again.


	2. New Beginnings

Chapter two is up. This story will focus on team interactions after the Second David Job. As the team grows closer, they will have to deal with new problems and old enemies.

Thanks to every one who has read so far and please review, so I know whether this story is something worth continuing. And of course I don't own Leverage.

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In the end, it didn't take long for the Leverage team to decide on a new city to relocate to – in fact, with the help of Hardison's advanced search engines, it was as simple as each member of the team inputing what attributes they were looking for in their new home.

For Sophie, it was shopping. She was interested in living in a city that had a rich shopping district – which became a necessity for her, she told Nate, after Hardison blew up a large collection of her shoes that she kept stored in her original office. She was also interested in a metropolis with a thriving theater scene and was anxious to renew her acting career in a new and unbiased environment.

Parker was happy as long as the city was, in her own words, tall and shiny. She was interested in their being plenty of skyscrapers and museums, despite the fact that Nate told her that they would be remaining low-key in their city of operations.

Hardison simply wanted to be in a city that on the cutting-edge of technology. As long as he didn't end up having to attempt to work with a dial-up modem or deal with too much nature in their new home then he was as happy as a clam.

Nate wanted a change. After taking down Blackpoole and coming clean to Maggie, Nate wanted to try to move on and see if he could find peace in a new city. Though a city with a healthy appreciation for alcohol was a factor of consideration for him.

Eliot's opinion on the matter surprised the group, by being the least concerned. In truth, it didn't matter to Eliot where they ended up. He was used to having to relocate and leave everything behind when jobs went south. For Eliot it was just change in the already uncertain lifestyle of a retrieval specialist. All cities were the same, the only thing that was different about this one would be the people that would be in it.

Hardison's computer gave several possible cities that would have accommodated the Leverage team, but it was Eliot that narrowed it down to Portland, Oregon. He simply asked the team which of the cities on the list had they never been to. It came down to the fact that none of the team had ever been to Portland, so that's where they ended up. It seemed to Eliot that it would a good place to make a fresh start for the team.

So here they were, sitting in the new office for Leverage Consulting Inc. The headquarters was similar to their old one – it took up the entire top floor of its building and had Hardison's impressive computer array configured within an almost identical conference room, but distinct changes could be seen. Since the entire team was involved in forming the office this time, personal touches from all of the thieves had found their ways into the design of the headquarters.

Sophie was in charge of the decor. She chose to forgo the basic office setup that embodied the last location and created an environment that felt more like a home. The interior had a welcoming feel to it - complete with dark mahogany staining and stylish and elegant pieces of artwork.

The only area of the new space besides the individual offices that Sophie wasn't allowed to touch was the kitchen. Eliot took responsibility for turning what they originally found to be a mess of broken and rusting appliances into a modern and fully stocked kitchen, complete with an industrial fridge, that was now nearly filled with Jone's Orange Soda compliments of Hardison, a state-of-the-art oven and stove, and several sets of glistening knives. Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Eliot had also taken to updating the security measures for the Leverage headquarters. Despite the fact that Hardison claimed his new system would give them more protection against intruders, Eliot felt it prudent to add his own touches to the security. That is why there were suddenly weapons hidden covertly around the office – knives were hidden in bookcases and taped under tables, while riot batons were slipped into hollow curtain rods and cans of mace were kept within potted plants. Call him paranoid, but Eliot didn't plan on letting himself be caught unprepared again.

The team took about a month off to settle in to their new offices and their new city. During that time, Eliot noticed definite changes within the dynamics of the group. Apparently, the thought of nearly losing each other had forced Nate and Sophie to actually sit down and confront the growing tension between them. Maybe it was Sophie seeing Nate back together with his ex-wife that had forced Sophie to finally make the first move. Whatever the reason, the two were now officially together and Eliot wished Nate all the best of luck. God help him if he ever mixes up Paris with Tuscany again.

At least those two had been direct about it. It seems that Parker and Hardison still hadn't managed to gather the courage to admit that they like each other. Instead they chose to circle around each other for weeks and drive Eliot to the brink of madness with their obvious and pathetically awkward flirting. It came to a point about three weeks after moving to Portland when Hardison actually approached Eliot about it.

"Yo Eliot, can I talk about something with you for a moment?" Hardison asked while popping his head into Eliot's office.

"That depends on what you want to talk about," Was Eliot's response.

"Parker."

'Oh lord save me,' Eliot groaned internally as he heard Hardison speak the lithe thief's name. He had been hoping to avoid that conversation with Hardison, but that was no longer an option.

Hardison could tell that Eliot wasn't in the best of moods, 'Like always,' thought Hardison, so he attempted to get to the point of the discussion before Eliot lost his patience and decided to end it physically.

"You may have noticed that I kind of, you know, have a thing for Parker... and I was wondering if you could help me," Hardison quickly stated, practically tripping over his tongue in an attempt to say what was on his mind before he lost his nerve.

Eliot sighed, "For the love of Gawd... Parker!" He yelled out the blond's name at the end of his ramblings.

Parker bounded into the room in her own peppy way, but stopped dead once she noticed that Hardison was in Eliot's office. Hardison was his part was torn between looking furious at Eliot and looking at Parker like a deer caught in the headlights. It was all Eliot could do not to slap them both upside the head for acting so stupid.

"Alright now listen to me the two of you," Eliot told them sternly, while glaring at both of them, "Parker, you like Hardison," even as Parker opened her mouth to deny this Eliot continued on, "And Hardison, you like Parker," Hardison went as white as a sheet when he heard this, "So will the two of you stop dancing around each other and do something about it before I beat some sense into you!"

Having said this, Eliot pushed the two shocked thieves out of his office and shut the door behind them. As he was stalking back to his desk he could hear Parker asking Hardison if he wanted to have sex with her in her office. Eliot groaned and made a mental note to soundproof his office as soon as possible.

As the next weeks passed without incident, the new couples began to solidify their relationships. Eliot was happy for them, but he noticed that as they spent more time together, they spent less time in the office. Before, when the group had first started, Eliot would have welcomed the loneliness as an opportunity to find peace and quiet away from the group; however, now he actually seemed to feel lonely without the group pestering him. He began to notice that the others would be talking about personal events that he knew nothing about, or that they would all share inside jokes with each other that he didn't understand.

His response was to fall back to his old habits, and he began to withdraw within himself. As the others became closer, he held back. The others would go out to dinner nights when they weren't running a con, but Eliot would always find some excuse to hang back, not wanting to be a third wheel. The others didn't seem to notice, they were too wrapped up in their new relationships to pay attention to the quiet and withdrawn specialist. He had always been the most secretive and enigmatic member of a group of thieves and grifters, so it didn't seem out of the ordinary when Eliot chose not to join them.

As Eliot listened to the others leave for the night in celebration of a successfully completed con, he couldn't help but sigh at the annoyingly persistent feeling of rejection that wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. Attempting to shake these new and unwanted feelings out of him, Eliot sat down at the conference table with a six-pack of beer and tried to distract himself by watching two teams of testosterone charged men beating the hell out of each other. As he cracked open his first beer, he thought about what the others were up to at that moment. Drowning half of the beer in one gulp, he decided it didn't matter. They were probably better off without him.

He couldn't have been more wrong.


	3. A Night Out

Thanks to those people who have reviewed so far, your comments have been helpful and much appreciated. This chapter will be a change of pace and focus on the rest of the team as they are celebrating without Eliot.

Enjoy.

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'How my life has changed.'

That was the thought running happily through Nathan Ford's calculating mind, as he sat around a table at the quaint little Italian trattoria in the heart of Portland's Pearl district. If someone had told him just a year ago that he would be eating dinner and laughing without a care in the world with people that he had come to love, then he probably would have laughed in his or her face.

Or he would have punched them repeated in the throat.

But as he sat there surrounded by the rest of his team, he felt a certain completeness that he hadn't felt since he first learned of his son's illness. His whole world had shattered that day, but now he could feel the pieces slowly beginning to fit themselves back together. They couldn't reform what had been lost previously ... but Nate was beginning to understand that the new puzzle could be just as good.

Despite these feelings, Nate couldn't help but feel that something was still missing. As he glanced over at Hardison and Parker sitting closely to each other and having a passionate discussion over the most recent episode of Doctor Who, Nate's mind seemed to make an attempt to connect the dots and was on the verge of revealing the great mystery that was just beyond his grasp. But then Sophie turned to him with a dazzling smile and all rational thought seemed to come to an abrupt halt.

Sophie couldn't help but smile as she watched Nate sitting next to her, lost in thought. She loved his inquisitive mind that always seemed to be working through some puzzle or riddle with such beautiful precision. It was that mind that had first intrigued her when he first caught up with her ten years ago stealing that Degas. At that point she had believed that she was untouchable – she had never failed a heist and had always vanished without a trace – so it enticed her that some insurance agent was had managed to track her down. Now as she saw Nate turn to her and stare into her eyes with such unbridled love, she realized that being caught by him was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her.

She and Nate continued to stare each other, simply content to be in each other's company, for several moments before turning to Hardison and Parker and reliving their latest job. The group laughed unabashedly as they recalled some of the team's more incredulous acting requirements.

"I still can't believe that you pulled that off!" Hardison exclaimed to Sophie, "I mean seriously, where did you learn to pole dance like that?"

Sophie couldn't help but enjoy the keen interest that Nate displayed during that part of the con – and she knew from the look he was giving her at that moment, that he thoroughly enjoyed her performance. Smiling wickedly at the group, she responded conspiratorially, "You'd be amazed at the things a person can pick up at a British boarding school."

"You went to a British boarding school?" Parker asked excitedly, clearing wanting to hear more.

"I never said that," Sophie replied, "I just said you'd be surprised what you can learn at one of them."

Everyone couldn't help but laugh at Sophie's enigmatic response, enjoying the sense of easy friendship that had been steadily growing these last several weeks.

"Ooh. Sophie sounds just like Eliot!" Parker exclaimed while laughing boisterously, "It's too bad he couldn't make it tonight. I wonder what he's doing?"

"Probably beating up a biker bar somewhere," Hardison replied flippantly. The truth was that Hardison wasn't overly concerned about Eliot not being there – he liked Eliot, he really did, but he was was almost relieved that Eliot wasn't there. Eliot made him feel inadequate at times. He was everything that society taught Hardison to believe was cool and masculine, while Hardison was the definition of a nerd. He was originally afraid that Parker would find Eliot more interesting than him, since both of them seem to lead lives that are filled with danger and excitement that, before he joined Leverage Consulting, Hardison had only experienced playing World of Warcraft.

Hearing Parker and Hardison discuss Eliot filled her with a sudden sense of loss. Out of all of them she seemed to be the only one who noticed how Eliot had been withdrawing himself from the team – but that wasn't surprising since she was the only one of them who specialized in human behavior. It was her job to read people, a job that she was incredibly talented at, but she had trouble reading Eliot. He was the hardest one of the team to understand, even harder than Parker. Something was bothering him, Sophie could tell that, but she had no idea what. Eliot was adapt at hiding his emotions and masking his pain – something, Sophie realized, must have taken years of practice to perfect.

She wanted to say something about it to him, but she couldn't. Things weren't still okay between the grifter and the retrieval specialist. Sure Eliot may have accepted her apology and forgiven her, but that didn't mean that was able to trust her again. She saw how Eliot tensed up the second that she had been forced to make a change to the plan during their latest con. Everything had gone smoothly in the end, but Sophie could still see the wariness within Eliot's eyes has he watched her intently. She had no doubt that if she ever presented a threat to the team then Eliot would take her down without a second's hesitation. And the thought that he was willing and prepared to stop her at any cost truly saddened and terrified her at the same time.

By now, it was well past closing time and the group found themselves to be the last customers left in the building. Deciding it was time to head out, Nate left a generous tip on the table and the team made their way towards the doors. The parking lot was ensconced within the shadows of the night and the group could just make out Hardison's Black Mercedes Benz S-Class parked beside Nate's Tesla Roadster. As they were about ten yards away from the car, suddenly Parker went limp, nearly smashing her face onto the pavement before Hardison was able to catch her. As he fervently checked her for anything that could explain her sudden collapse, Hardison found a small tranquillizer dart sticking out of the back of her neck, right above her left shoulder blade. Before he was able to show the dart to the others and warn them, black-dressed men materialized out of the shadows to surround the three remaining conscious thieves. All of the men were heavily armed, and looked as if they were more than common street thugs.

"Take Them," One of the clandestine men ordered and immediately the men moved in to apprehend the group. When one of the men grabbed Sophie, Nate lashed out without thinking, striking the man hard across the face with his riot baton. As that man fell Nate turned to strike the next assailant, only to feel pain explode throughout the back of his skull as one of the shadows struck him with the butt of his gun. As Nate began to lose his battle with consciousness, one last thought flashed forcibly across his mind.

'I wish Eliot was here.'


	4. Questions

Thank you everyone for your positive feedback and your continued interest in this story. I'll do my best to live up to your expectations.

And sorry for not updating sooner, work has been hell this week. I'll try to update more regularly from now on.

On to the story.

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Joe Santori was not happy. This was supposed to be a simple job. Quick, easy, and covert. The plan had been to hit the con artists fast under the cover of darkness. In fact, the only reason that so many men had been brought for this mission was insurance against a man that hadn't even been there. The orders had been clear – take out the long haired hitter and the blond thief first and then subdue the others. He had been told that out of all of them, those two would be the most dangerous, especially the missing man. Therefore, Joe was not happy that things had not gone according to plan.

His boss had told him not to underestimate that man, though from the photograph the man didn't look particularly threatening. The only thing that took away from the country western singer vibe the photograph portrayed was the menacing scowl gracing the otherwise handsome features.

Of course, since they had failed to retrieve the retrieval specialist, they had no way of knowing how dangerous he truly was. All of their careful planning had been wasted. Someone would pay for this mistake. Coming to a decision quickly, Joe quickly ordered his men,

"Davis, Lou, and Tony, you take these four back to the drop zone and keep an eye on them. The rest of us are going after the last man."

Joe just hoped that he wouldn't be the one to pay for the mistakes of tonight.

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Eliot was bored.

His six-pack of beer had long since been finished, though Eliot felt no pleasant buzz off of the euphoric amber liquid. Instead, he felt only a hollow emptiness as he sat alone in the dark confines of his office. The sports game hadn't been able to distract Eliot from the fact that he was sitting alone in the dark while the others were out together enjoying their new lives.

But that is how it should be.

The others don't belong in his world. And it seems that he doesn't belong in theres'. The more time he spend around them, the more he realizes that he is different from them. Hardison is afraid of him. He tries to hide it, but every time he sees Eliot handle a knife or demonstrate his reflexes he flinches.

Parker may not act that differently around him, but then again she's not normal. She is a special brand of crazy that makes his own life seem almost normal in comparison. But Eliot sees the way that she looks at him when he takes down his opponents. There is a recognition there that shows the pains of her past. Eliot reminds her of things that she has buried within the depths of her quirky and damaged personality. And whether she shows it or not, she is uncomfortable with what he does.

Sophie is still afraid to be around him. She and Eliot may have made up over the Blackpoole fiasco, but that doesn't mean that things are back to how they once were. He doesn't bother to hide his mistrust of her, mostly because he knows that there is no point to it. It's her job to read people – to figure out what they're thinking – and he knows that she is always watching him. Sophie has seen in Eliot's eyes the determination he has to protect the team from all enemies. Including her.

Then there is Nate. Nate once told Eliot that they are not friends, and Eliot believes him. Eliot knows that Nate is an honest man in the depths of his soul, and it is for that reason that they will never be friends. Nate knows the most about Eliot out of all of them. He understands the cruelty of the world better than the rest. But he is still too innocent for the world that Eliot lives in. He doesn't understand how Eliot can remain both a gentle cook and a ruthless killer. There is a line that Nate will never cross. A line that Eliot has crossed more times than the others will ever know.

So maybe it's for the best that Eliot is withdrawing from the rest of the team. They seem to be happy. 'Maybe they wouldn't even notice if I left', he thought.

He continued to follow this dark line of thinking until a sudden noise assaulted him from the darkness. The noise would be barely audible to a normal person, but to the paranoid retrieval specialist the soft noise sounded like a gun being discharged in the empty offices. It was a sound that turned his blood to ice. It was the sound of someone picking the lock to the front door.

The lock was one of the best on the market – at the insistence of Eliot and the excitement of Parker, Nate agreed to have it installed – and the fact that the door wasn't open yet told Eliot that this wasn't Parker trying to sneak into the office in an attempt to surprise him or remove something from her office surreptitiously. No, this was something far more sinister.

Deciding without a moment's hesitation, Eliot grabbed a riot baton from his desk drawer and stuck his favorite knife into his back pocket, the sheath and handle just barely creating a noticeable bulge that was quickly hidden by his long button-down flannel shirt. He quickly left his office and entered the already darkened office. Moving silently towards the main entrance, Eliot positioned himself to the side of the door, and waited.

It didn't take long.

He heard the soft click as the unknown intruder finally managed to reconfigure the lock's tumblers into the correct positions and immediately tensed as the door was carefully and purposely opened. As the door opened fully, Eliot mentally prepared himself for what was about to come next. What he hadn't been prepared for was the hushed voice the that he heard.

"Let's move quickly boys, this one supposed to be harder to take down than the others were."

Eliot's mind suddenly goes numb as he hears the soft statement. 'What did they mean by taking down the others?' Eliot wonders. Suddenly Eliot's legendary battle calm is shattered and replaced by a combination of dread, anxiousness, and above all rage. Some one had taken down his family. He didn't know if they were dead or tied up somewhere gasping in pain. As images of these scenarios cascaded through his mind they were soon joined by other horrifying possibilities that he had witnessed during his long and dark career. He was supposed to shield the others from the type of life he led. And it seems that he had failed. It was his job to protect them from everything... including himself.

Something in Eliot snapped, and he was no longer the hitter for the Leverage team – the soft-spoken cowboy with an easy smile and endless supply of hidden talents. No, he was Eliot Spencer - the most feared and respected retrieval specialist in the world. His resolve unwaivering, he decidedly folded up the baton and reached for his knife.

He needed answers.

And he only needed one of the intruders to find those.


	5. Answers

Thanks every one for the reviews. My computer has been acting up lately, so unfortunately the updating has been slow. This is the first chapter where I try to write a fight/interrogation scene, so all reviews would be greatly appreciated.

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As the door opened, Eliot positioned himself so that the door would conceal his presence from the intruders as they entered. There were six of them, all dressed in black, form-fitting clothing, and all carrying firearms. Eliot waited till all of the men had entered the room – he had to ensure that he could get behind all of them. At the same time, he didn't want to allow the men enough time to begin dispersing and searching other areas of the floor. He had to time this perfectly.

Eliot's breathing was soft and even, as he slowly maneuvered himself around the door and behind the man closest to him. These men had so far kept a tight formation, with the man Eliot surmised to be the leader in the middle of the group. That told Eliot two things:

These men had some form of group combat experience, but they weren't special ops.

The man that most likely had the answers he needed was ensconced between muscle who were most likely to comfortable using guns to understand the dynamics of close combat fighting.

Normally Eliot wouldn't even bother with a weapon of his, but time was of the essence and there was no room for errors created by pride. An image of the team floated to the top of his consciousness as he prepared to take the final steps towards the would-be assailants. With the image of his friends, no his family, smiling happily among themselves filled his senses, he gave into the primal nature of the fight and attacked those responsible for placing them in danger.

It was over before it began.

Eliot grabbed the last man in the formation silently by wrapping his hand over the man's mouth and quickly drawing his blade across the doomed muscle's throat, cleanly slicing through his jugular. Eliot turned his head at the last second to prevent the spray of arterial blood now fountaining into the air from impeding his vision – it struck the side of his head instead of his face. As the man desperately clutched at his throat Eliot pushed him to the side and began a deadly dance within the remaining men. The men turned at the sound of the first man's final gurgles of life as he began choking to death on his own blood. By the time that they had turned Eliot already had taken down the next man with a knife to the ribs and the next man's windpipe was crushed by a stiff hand chop, before the first syllables of his cry for help were fully formed.

Eliot was in his element. Having surrendered to the adrenaline coursing through his body he moved with a speed and precision that left the men wondering if who they fought was even human. Suddenly the leader of the team of assassins found himself alone among a sea of dead and dying men. Eliot was directly across from him glaring at with an intensity that shook him to his very core. Joe Santori looked and Eliot and saw what he could only describe as an angel of death. With his clothing drenched in the blood of his enemies and his deadly blade glistening menacingly under the fluorescent lighting of the office, Eliot appeared before him as monster that he had only imagined as a child. Acting on instinct, Joe leveled his nine millimeter handgun at the retrieval specialist and began to pull the trigger.

He never finished pulling it.

With a speed that seemed impossible for a man that had already taken down five armed men, Eliot reached Joe and grabbed his wrist that was holding the weapon, as he struck out with his left leg to shatter Joe's left kneecap. All Joe could comprehend searing pain that was currently launching a full-scale assault on his mind from two separate limbs. He vaguely realized that screams of agony that he heard were emanating from his own lips. He felt his grip on the weapon loosen before the gun was forcibly ripped from his grip. As he looked up through pain-lidded eyes, he had a solitary moment to lock his gaze with Eliot's. What he saw in Eliot's eyes was a burning conviction that promised pain for the fallen man. Joe knew that his nightmare was only beginning. Then everything went black.

Eliot hoisted the gun by the barrel and brought it crashing down upon the back of his opponents skull. As the man fell, Eliot took a moment to breathe and survey the chaos that he had wrought within the office. Luckily, none of the hired goons had managed to fire off any rounds in the headquarters, but the room was still destroyed. Blood coated almost the entirety of the floor and a good portion of the walls. Furniture and lamp fixtures had been broken by falling bodies and the door to his office had actually been destroyed by an assailant that he had kicked through it.

But none of that mattered.

The only thing that Eliot was concerned with was finding the others. Dragging the now unconscious Joe into the conference room Eliot dumped him into one of the chairs and headed towards his office. Stepping over the wreckage of his door and the body of the man that had caused it, Eliot made his way around his desk and towards a corner of the room. Moving a potted plant that had been a gift from Parker, Eliot reached down and removed one of the floor boards. He quickly removed a box from the hiding spot before replacing the board and plant. He had hoped he would never have to use the contents of this box in the office, but he didn't have time to waste. He quickly returned to the conference room, where Joe was still out cold. He opened the box on the conference table and removed several pairs of handcuffs. He quickly secured Joe's arms and legs to the chair before securing the chair to a pipe along the wall. This way the chair wouldn't be able to roll or tip over during what was about to come next.

All Eliot needed was for Joe to wake.

There were several options to rouse him and begin the interrogation, but Eliot chose the simplest option. Taking a pack of wooden matches out of the box, Eliot lit two and placed them on the sensitive areas of Joe's skin on the neck, just below his chin. He didn't have to wait long before the flames caused Joe's muscles to begin spasming, violently jerking him awake.

He looked terrified.

Good. Fear always made the process run faster.

Joe still looked somewhat out of it, so Eliot calmly began to remove several long pieces of thin medal with sharp tapered ends on them. He set them down calmly and deliberately on the table in front of Joe.

"Who are you working for?" Eliot asked him with a predatory calm that promised pain.

Joe didn't answer. He was scared beyond reason of what Eliot seemed capable of doing to him, but at the same time he already knew what his boss would do to him if he learned that he was the one that told the retrieval specialist the details of the mission. So he said nothing.

Eliot sighed at his captives obvious lack of cooperation. He knew that the man needed an incentive to be more forthcoming. Therefore Eliot grabbed one of the pieces of metal lying on the table and stabbed Joe through the shoulder with dizzying speed. Joe barely had time to register what was happening before he heard himself screaming in pain, as his shoulder began burning with an intensity that surpassed any pain that he had ever felt in his own long criminal career. Eliot watched him scream and jerk against his restraints with an unconcerned annoyance. He was wasting time while the others were being held elsewhere. That was unacceptable. Finally, when the screaming began to subside, Eliot grabbed Joe by the throat and forced him to look him in the eyes.

"These needles are coated in a rare South Asian poison," Eliot told him, "It won't kill you. Instead it amplifies the strength of the needles effects on your pain receptors, making even the mildest of pains unbearable."

As he was saying this, Eliot picked up another needle and twirled it between his fingers in front of Joe's face. Through the pain wracking Joe's mind, he clearly understood the threat behind Eliot's actions. But he still refused to cave.

The next needle was applied with so much force that it went straight through Joe's femur – the crack of the bone splitting mingled with the ear-piercing screams. Joe was visibly shaking in pain, twitching from the sensory overload being forced upon his body. Eliot grabbed the needle in the man's leg, and pulled on it, causing the wound to open further, exponentially increasing the agony Joe was feeling.

"I don't have time for this," Eliot growled at the writhing body in the chair, "You tell me where the others are that you took or this next needle ensures that you never have a chance of starting a family." Eliot then emphasized his point by placing the next needle just above Joe's crotch and began to slowly apply pressure.

Joe broke down.

He started begging and crying and praying for Eliot to stop. Eliot waited a moment before removing the needle from Joe's lap.

"Ple... please st...stop! I'll tell you!" Joe stammered. He was beyond rational thought, the poison was convincing him to give up every loyalty that he had made in an attempt to end the continuous waves of pain cascading against the recesses of his mind. Eliot waited impatiently as Joe sobbing admitted the information that Eliot was desperately waiting to hear. "You and your team conned my boss. He almost lost everything. He had a secret emergency stash of cash set aside and he is spending all of it on revenge against you," Joe was rambling now, saying anything he could think of to keep Eliot's needles away from him.

"Who's your boss?" Eliot snapped at him, his composure beginning to break. Joe looked at him directly in the eyes before nervously responding,

"Nicki Masconi."

Eliot's blood ran cold when the name of the mobster left Joe's throat. That had been one of the most dangerous jobs that the team had taken. Not only had it involved the Italian mafia, but it had also involved the Butcher of Kiev, a man that had a personal vendetta against the retrieval specialist.

"How did he find us? Isn't he supposed to be in prison?" Eliot asked the scared man before him.

"He is. I guess you and your team didn't realize how connected that man is in the criminal underworld," Joe replied, allowing a little bit of smugness to creep into his voice.

"How did he find us?" Eliot needed to know. After all the team had not only covered their tracks, they had blown their tracks to Hell and relocated to a different part of the country.

"Did you think that the Butcher would allow you to humiliate him again without there being consequences?"

'The Butcher of Kiev... damn it!' This was all Eliot's fault. He had put the entire team at risk because of his past, his sins. He knew that he wasn't good enough for them – that his darkness would seep out of his world and infect theirs. Turning back to his captive, Eliot's voice took on an edge that he hadn't heard himself deliver since he first learned of Aimee was marrying another man, "Tell me where they're being held."

Joe was quick to give Eliot the address of an old warehouse down by the docks, in the commercial part of the city. As Eliot processed this information, he picked up two of the long needles, one in each hand.

"Wait! Wait!" Joe began screaming, "I told you everything I know! You have to let me go!" Eliot began to move closer to the nearly hysterical man. "Please... I was just following orders!"

Eliot paused at that, his mind automatically reliving the past experiences when he had heard that phrase uttered to him before... and when he had told others the same thing.

"I believe you..." Eliot told Joe. Joe seemed to visibly relax after hearing that statement. Then faster than lightning Eliot took one of the needles and forced it into the man's heart, shattering his sternum in the process. Eliot leaned in close to Joe's gasping form and softly stated, "But that doesn't absolve you from your sins. No one risks my family!" At that Eliot took the final needle and pierced it through Joe's throat. As the dying man began to choke and convulse, Eliot turned and walked away from the scene, shutting the doors to the conference room as he left – the man's muffled screams fading into the background as he walked away.

Eliot may have felt pity and remorse for his actions in the conference room but they were necessary to discover where his teammates were. He realized that returning them safely was the only thing that mattered anymore.

No matter what the cost.


	6. The Phone Call

Here is the next chapter as well as a slight editing/reworking of chapter five. You guys have been great with your reviews so far and have helped motivate to continue. So keep them coming and let me know that you want to keep reading.

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Nate's head was killing him. That was his first thought as he awoke from what felt like the worst hangover that he had ever had – which was quite an impressive accomplishment. Looking around he quickly saw that the others, including Parker, were awake and observing him with obvious relief at his return to consciousness. He attempted to stand and assess the situation, but was quickly hindered by a sharp pain in his arms and legs. It was then that he noticed the state that the others were in. All of them were tied to metal chairs that were bolted into the floor. The chairs were placed far enough apart from each other that the team would be unable to whisper to one another or attempt to pass anything among each other. When Nate raked his gaze over the others he was relieved to see that they all appeared unharmed; however, he was shocked by the fact that Parker was sitting there completely still. Normally Parker was a bundle of excitable energy – always moving in attempt to find something new to occupy her short-lived and unique curiosity. As Nate attempted to understand this strange deviation in her behavior he took note of the stinging pain that was still lingering from his attempt to stand. Suddenly he understood the reasoning behind Parker's newfound stoicism and the reason that she hadn't already escaped her bonds – they were tied to the chairs by barbed metal wire.

That was not good. Someone was obviously prepared to hold Parker, which meant that their captor had done their homework and was aware of the teams strengths and abilities – homework, Nate realized, that had been done quite thoroughly as he felt drops of blood begin to slowly trace paths down his wrists from the barbed wire. Nate instinctively began to process all of the information on the situation, in order to attempt to formulate a strategy for escaping an disturbingly escalating situation.

He drew a blank.

For the first time since Nate left his near alcohol-induced coma to work with the unlikely team of loners and thieves, Nate had no idea how to react to the situation that they found themselves in. The only thing he could think of to help them escape this mess was Eliot.

He almost automatically began to call out to Eliot before remembering that he wasn't wearing his com. The team hadn't been on a job, they had been out to dinner. In fact, if they had been working an actual con then it was more likely than not that Eliot would have been with them and therefore tied up in the room with them.

That was the moment when Nate realized that the only time that the team ever sees Eliot any more was when they were working. The rest of the team would spend their free time together, but not Eliot. Nate was angry when he realized this. Not at Eliot for withdrawing from the group, but with himself for not realizing it sooner. Out of all of them, he knew the most about Eliot's past. He knew that Eliot had been abandoned more times than any of the others could truly comprehend. That every time Eliot became close to someone they left him more broken than before. And Eliot never complained. He would just reforge the pieces of his shattered heart that were still large enough to find and move on. He had been to preoccupied with his new life and his new relationship with Sophie to notice that the group had been leaving Eliot behind.

Nate's silent musings were suddenly cut short, as he heard heavy footsteps falling immediately behind the metal door to his left. As the door began to slowly open, Nate tensed, uncertain of what was about to happen. He was shocked when the door opened to reveal none other than the Butcher of Kiev, his infamous cleavers shining under the harsh florescent light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Nate knew that the Butcher could only want the entire team for only two reasons. Either he was working for Nikki Mosconi, since that was the only connection that the team had with the Eastern Assassin, or he was using the team to get to Eliot, whom he had a personal grudge with. Both reasons seemed plausible to the ex-insurance agent and neither of them looked particularly encouraging.

Nate didn't have to wait long to discover which option they were facing.

The Butcher quickly scanned the room before grabbing one of the men that had walked in silently behind him, "Vhere is the last man!" He angrily screamed at the henchman while he slammed him into the nearest wall, "Vhere is Spencer!"

Eliot's last name came out as a curse and Nate saw veins throbbing on the scarred man's forehead. The Butcher was seriously pissed.

"He wasn't with the others when we took them from the restaurant," The lackey quickly told his boss, motivated by fear of the large and sharp appendage that was moving slowly closer to his paling face, "Joe took the rest of the extraction team to take care of him at their headquarters, he should be back any minute now with the retrieval specialist." The Butcher released the now visibly relieved man before ordering the other man with him to radio his man Joe and discover what his status was with taking Eliot. As the man held up his cellphone on speaker-phone, Nate and the rest of the team waited with baited breaths to learn of the fate of their missing teammate.

There was nothing but the empty sound of the unanswered phone's shrill ring, before the mechanical voice of Joe's phone finally going to voice mail.

Nate exhaled a breathe he didn't realize that he was holding. Looking towards the others he saw that the rest of the team appeared as relieved to learn that Eliot had evaded capture as he was. The entire room was so deep in thought about the lack of response that no one was prepared for the shrill ringing that came from the hand of the man that had just attempted to reach the other henchmen. The man, noticing that the call was coming from the same phone that he just attempted to reach, put the phone on speaker-mode and held it up for his boss to hear. The Butcher immediately began to scream at the man on the other end of the phone, demanding answers.

But none came.

When the Butcher finished his tirade, a short silence filled the makeshift prison. It was quickly filled by a voice that was both familiar to Nate, but at the same time completely foreign. Speaking with a cold ruthlessness that the team had never heard before, Eliot addressed the Butcher,

"I know where your keeping them. This is your one chance to let them go free," Eliot delivered this with such an eerie, predatory calm that Nate felt his hackles rise and goosebumps began to break out on the back of his neck.

The Butcher just laughed and told him to do his worst.

Nate waited desperately to hear what was coming next, but all he heard was the click as the connection went dead. As the Butcher stormed out of the room, shouting orders to his men, Nate couldn't help but dwell on the disturbingly cold comments made by their normally charming and reserved specialist. Nate's mind intuitively thinks back to the stories that he has heard of the enigmatic man that is considered to be the best retrieval specialist in the world. The are parts of Asia and Eastern Europe where Eliot is considered to be more of a myth than an actual human being. A nightmare to strike fear into the hearts of the criminal world – an unstoppable ghost that leaves any who dare to oppose it broken in its wake. Suddenly Nate understands more than the rest of them, how much Eliot has had to change and hold back, in order to be a part of his team.

Nate suddenly feels fear grip hold of him.

There is a storm coming.

And things are about to become messy very soon.


	7. Attack

Thanks to every one who has reviewed the story – Your reviews have really encouraged me to work harder on this story than I originally thought I would. Sorry for taking so long to update – my job has been crazy lately. I'll try to have the next chapter up by the end of this week. Things are about to become very intense for Eliot and the gang. Please review and let me know what you think about where things are going with this story.

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Sophie was terrified. Not by being held captive by a sociopath – after all she knew that the world she immersed herself in was a dangerous one – but by the look of contemplative horror that was now gracing Nate's beautifully troubled features. Nate had looked completely lost in thought since they heard Eliot's harsh statements towards their captor – a man who then immediately began barking orders to other heavily armed men.

In truth, Sophie could understand the nervous energy running throughout their prison because she had heard the same statements by Eliot that her kidnappers had. It didn't take a professional grifter to understand the promises of pain behind Eliot's darkly intense phone call, but then again the mobsters didn't know the retrieval specialist like she did. To them he made a clear threat unless his demands were met, but to her, a woman that had been studying Eliot's actions and statements since the first day she met him, Eliot's phone call sounded like a commandment from Hell. Ever since the first David job, Sophie had felt uneasy around Eliot. Maybe it was because she never apologized to him for what she did, or maybe it was because she knew that he no longer trusted, but if she was being honest with herself then it would be because of how he looked after they rescued Hardison and Parker. Eliot walked towards her with a split lip and a broken rib, but his face portrayed no pain. Instead, all Sophie could see on his battered features was anger ... and more subtly regret and resignation. It was at that point that Sophie understood how deeply she had betrayed the man that originally she had only seen as hired muscle.

That's why he had been last.

Sophie hadn't been able to face the look of anger and hurt that she knew would grace Eliot's normally serene features. She was ashamed of lying to him – a feeling that she wasn't used to associate with lying. Even after Nate had confronted her about lying to him about the con she had still felt as if she had done the right thing. After all, if everything had worked out then she would have not only have acquired the second David, but she would have helped Nate ruin Blackpoole. In her mind the job had simply gone south.

But after seeing a broken and bleeding Eliot glaring at her indignantly, she realized how terribly she had messed everything up. Parker and Hardison were easy to apologize to: Hardison was just happy to have the others with him all together, like one big happy family and Parker ... well Parker had been mollified by the fact that Sophie promised to jump off of another roof with her sometime. But she had known that Eliot wouldn't be so easy to please. And she had been right. But what she hadn't been prepared for was how important the team had become to Eliot. The others all had their relationships tying them to the group, but not Eliot. What he had was something deeper, something more personal that he wasn't prepared to admit to anyone.

This is what Sophie realized as she heard Eliot's cold southern drawl over the speaker-phone. So she was terrified. Terrified by what was about to happen, by what Eliot was about to do.

Suddenly Sophie was pulled out of her revelations by an explosion that rocked the entire building. Bits of plaster and asbestos rained down upon her head from the shock-wave produced by the blast. But before she had time to wonder what had happened she heard gunshots in the distance. These violent sounds soon mingled with the muffled screams of others as, what she could only assume was a full-scale war, was being waged at the other end of the warehouse that they were being held in. She looked towards the rest of the team.

Hardison looked nervous. He was fidgeting as much as the barbed wire would allow and looking in every direction, as if expecting to see bullets begin flying at him from all directions. He was truly out of his element, usually only experiencing such violence while holding a joystick in his hand.

Parker on the other hand was practically bouncing with excitement. No doubt she was waiting for the moment that she would be free from her bound position. Her eyes shown with an excitement that made it easy to see why there were those that thought she was crazy. Parker wasn't meant to be held down.

Then there was Nate. Nate had a look of regretful acceptance on his face. His expression betrayed no fear or uncertainty, only expectancy ... and strangely enough sadness.

Suddenly Sophie understood – Nate knew exactly what was happening. Amid all of the chaos and activity going on in their prison as the Butcher screamed hysterically at his frantically running lackeys Nate sat quietly and patiently waiting for what was to happen next.

He didn't have to wait long.

Suddenly the screams and gunshots from beyond the walls ceased, plunging the room into a tense calm suspended in suspense. Just as the Butcher is reaching for a radio from one of his men to discover just what happened there is a knock upon the metal entrance to their cell. One of the men steps forward with his gun leveled at the door as he calls out to the man on the other side in Russian,

"Кто – там?" The lackey shouted through the door, nervously fingering the trigger of the assault rifle that had previously been slung across his back.

"Откройте дверь, босс в опасности!" The voice shouted back through the door, its sense of urgency conveyed even though the sounds were being muffled by the heavy metal. The man looked nervously at the butcher before moving towards the heavy lock that barricaded the prison from the outside world.

Just as the handle to the door was turned to allow the outside man to enter the heavy metal was slammed forward, knocking the hapless soldier to the floor, his gun flying from his grasp from the force of the blow. The door flew open to reveal a sight that no one was prepared for.

Eliot stood in the doorway, dressed in black and drenched from head-to-toe in blood. In each hand he held a wicked a dagger, both of which were also covered in the dark red liquid – the crimson contrasting starkly with the gleaming silver as it ran along the edge of the blade in thick droplets that would then cascade off of the blade and land on the floor below, staining the already dirty concrete.

The henchman that was still standing shook himself out of his shock from seeing the sight before him and raised his rifle, stepping forward as he did so. Before his finger had even reached the trigger though, Eliot struck. Faster than any of the rest of the team thought was possible, Eliot moved forward, striking a forceful kick to the side of the man's knee. The thug let out a scream of pain as his leg buckled and he fell forward, a scream that was cut off as Eliot quickly lashed out with his knife, smoothly slicing through his jugular. He was dead before he hit the floor.

As the other gunman attempted to rise to his knees and reach for his scattered weapon, Eliot slammed one of his heavy black combat boots down upon the small of his back. As the man hit the concrete hard, Eliot followed through with a vicious kick to the man's temple, knocking him unconscious.

As Eliot turned towards the Butcher, the rest of the team they could only look on in horror at the expression on his face. Their was no anger, pain, or hatred in his countenance. As the butcher raised his cleavers menacingly, Eliot showed no emotion. His face was completely blank and his eyes were hard and cold – dark pits that chilled Sophie to her core. She had never seen this look on Eliot's face before, but she knew exactly what it was.

It was the look of a man that would let nothing stand in the way of his objective.

Nothing.

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Translations (taken from an online English-Russian translator)

Кто – там? - Who's there?

Откройте дверь, босс в опасности! - Open the door, the boss is in danger!


	8. Rescue

I want to apologize to every one for taking so long with this chapter. I know that this chapter is one that people have been waiting for, but I didn't want to rush it. I am also moving to Italy for three months tomorrow, so my life has been hectic lately. But fear not, I plan on writing while I am there so this story will not be put on hold. As always I appreciate your continued comments and support.

Enjoy.

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As Eliot and the Butcher faced off, neither spoke, neither needed to. Their intentions were clearly made by the blades that each had built such dangerous reputations with. Eliot stood there looking the part of a massacre survivor, blood dripping off his body like rainwater. The Butcher's eyes shown with a morbid excitement, while Eliot's were a complete void – focusing on nothing but the violence about to unfurl in the room. The tension in the room was stifling and Nate felt as if he was sitting in the eye of a hurricane – he knew that any second the calm would shatter and the room would be plunged into chaos.

He didn't have to wait long.

Without warning both men threw themselves at one another. Sparks flew as steel met steel in a fast and violent dance of death. The only sounds to be heard were the clang of Eliot's daggers as they struck thrust for thrust against the Butcher's cleavers. As the men parried blows back and forth, their footing intricate and designed to anticipate their opponents next moves, Nate suddenly understood how Eliot was able to have such a great grasp of chess. The man clearly understood tactics, as he seemed to plan out his maneuvers in advance, attempting to lure the Butcher into a more vulnerable position. They made it elegant in a way, fighting with a speed and intensity that left one so in awe that it was possible to forget that they were fighting to the death.

Suddenly Nate noticed Eliot slip and stumble, before rolling under a well aimed swipe at his head and regain his footing. Nate shook himself out of his irrelevant musings and focused on the fight on his hands. Eliot looked as if he had already been through World War III, and it was beginning to show. He was beginning to tire under the fast-paced blades of the Kiev death merchant. As Nate watched Eliot struggle to keep pace with the Butcher, he began to wonder if all of the blood coating his body belonged to other people. Nate knew that Eliot was the best at his job, but he wasn't invincible or superhuman. Nate's worries were suddenly justified when Eliot was too slow to completely dodge one of the Butcher's infamous blades – Nate felt himself cringe in pain as he watched the glistening instrument of death slice through the retrieval specialist's shirt and leave an angry and bleeding gash across his chest. Eliot, for his part, showed no emotion, save a grunt as the cleaver struck true. The butcher pressed his advantage, knocking Eliot to the ground, both of his daggers flying from his hands and clattering off into a corner, as he hit the ground with a force that ripped a strangled groan from his lips. Eliot attempted to make it back to his feet, only to receive a viscous kick to his ribs as he struggled to stand.

It didn't look as if Eliot was going to be able to continue fighting.

The Butcher smiled wickedly as he slammed his knee into the small of Eliot's back. This finally proved to be too much for the hitter, as a scream of pain was finally wrenched from his throat. Nate began to shake in fear as he watched the final moments of one of his team's, his family's lives. Eliot had walked into a suicide mission to protect his family. Nate finally understood how important the Leverage team was to Eliot, and how poorly the team had treated him, leaving him behind as the rest moved forwards with their lives. He watched helplessly as the butcher leaned in close to Eliot, one of his blades inching closer and closer towards the young man's neck as his other hand kept his head mashed painfully against the concrete floor.

But Eliot showed no fear.

As the Butcher leaned in to whisper his final parting words to him, Eliot faced him without fear as he approached his impending death. Suddenly Nate realized that the reason that he showed no fear was because Eliot was fully prepared to die. It shocked Nate to his core that this man was willing and ready to die for him and the rest of the team. Nate then saw Eliot as more than a hitter and brawler, but as a warrior – a man that lived by a code of ethics and rules that belied an inner nobility. He wanted to close his eyes and hide, but he couldn't force himself to turn away as Eliot was lying there dying for him. He couldn't hear what the Butcher was saying to Eliot, but judging from the wicked grin spread across his scarred countenance, Nate doubted it was anything pleasant.

All of the sudden a rage crossed Eliot's empty eyes, lighting a burning inferno in the previous empty voids. With an unexpected surge of adrenalin, Eliot twisted his body in a position that must have abused his already battered body. Striking forward, he grabbed the Butcher's wrist holding the blade and twisted painfully. The sound of the bone snapping could just be heard over the screams of the butcher as he dropped the cleaver and began to scramble away from the specialist. But now it was Eliot's turn to press his advantage. From his position on the floor, Eliot lunged at the newly injured man, tackling him to the ground with a ferocity that couldn't help but inspire fear in Nate. The two began to roll upon the ground as each one of the fighters fought for the dominant position.

Eliot won.

With Eliot straddling the Butcher, he began to rain down a maelstrom of blows upon him, his fists striking with deadly accuracy. Eliot channeled the entirety of his rage into his fists – his anger outweighing his exhaustion. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Nate, Eliot's hands slowed and ended their onslaught upon the bloody mess that had once been the butcher of Kiev. He looked towards Eliot with a certain wariness, waiting for the man to shake whatever feral streak had overtaken him. As the emotion seemed to drain from Eliot's eyes, it seemed that his strength went with it. He stumbled as he attempted to stand while backing away from the freshly-made corpse littering the already dirty floor. With visible effort Eliot composed himself and walked towards the corner where he retrieved his fallen blades, hissing slightly in pain as he bent down to pick them up. He them methodically searched the room until he found a pair of wire cutters that had most likely been used to create the team's current bonds. As he limped limped towards his tied teammates Eliot's eyes began to refocus their empty calm, hiding whatever emotion or pain were floating just below the surface.

He reached Sophie first, stripping her of her constraints with a gentleness that contrasted greatly with the look of shock and fear that graced Sophie's normally serene and regal features. If Eliot noticed her apprehension to being near him, he made no outward acknowledgment of it. He quickly freed hardison and Parker, both of whom watched Eliot with expressions containing shock, and disbelief. Nate believed that Parker may just have been wondering what took Eliot so long to rescue her, though he knew that in her own way she cared for the quiet hitter. Hardison, though looked as if he was ready to pass out out at any second. He was practically shaking as Eliot approached him with the wire cutters. The minute that he was freed Hardison practically jumped out of his chair nearly stumbling over himself in an attempt to place distance between himself and Eliot. Nate made a mental note to keep a close eye on the young hacker.

As Eliot began cutting the wire from around his wrists, Nate made an attempt to scan the young man for injuries, but the blood drenching his body made that impossible. Eliot looked fine, but looks could be deceiving.

"Are you alright?" Nate asked Eliot quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the others.

"Fine Boss, you just worry about those wrists of yours," Eliot told him in a low growl. He then turned away, effectively silencing any retort that Nate may have come up with. Nate chose to ignore his natural desire to analyze every detail and did as Eliot suggested, probing his now tender wrists in an attempt to return more of the blood to the extremities. He knew that Eliot was right and that they had to focus on their escape at the moment. Afterwards there would be time to talk to Eliot and deal with the team, once they were back in the safety of their own office.

Now that the team was free, Eliot turned to them with the same cold, hard look gracing his features. Without giving them a time to breathe, he went and retrieved the weapons from the dead henchmen. Looking over the group, Eliot handed one to Sophie who took it hesitantly, unable to look Eliot in the eye. If Eliot noticed this he gave no indication, instead walking over to Nate to hand him the other assault rifle. Nate noticed that as Eliot passed Hardison, the young black man flinched, as if afraid that he might lash out at him. Nate knew that he would have to talk to Hardison at some point, after this was over. For now he had to focus on Eliot's vast survival knowledge to lead them out of there. Eliot looked tired, but resolved as he walked towards the door, pausing to listen for sounds of opposition from the other side. Hearing none, he looked over the others purposely, his eyes denoting the severity of the situation.

"Stay behind me," Eliot told them in his low southern drawl. With that, Eliot forcefully pushed open the door, striding through the open doorway without looking back. The others hesitated only slightly before following the damaged young through the door way. Nate was the last to follow him, giving the room one last glance. As he saw the broken body of the Butcher lying next to the bloody corpses of his men, Nate believed he was ready for whatever was behind that door.

He was wrong.


	9. Realizations

Thank you every one for being patient with me as I do my best to adjust to my new situation. Italy is amazing and I have barely had a moment to sit down and think, let alone write. But fear not, cause this story is still alive and constantly evolving, thanks to all of the great reviews that you have given me. The big fight may be over but now the team has to deal with something even more dangerous – the aftermath.

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'God I'm tired'.

That was the only thought running through the head of the slowly failing hitter as he forced his body beyond the realms of physical possibilities. He wanted nothing more than to simply lie down and close his eyes.

But he couldn't. Not yet.

Not while the team was still in danger. He had to push himself past the pain, working through his own weakness. This was nothing for him – the team had made him soft, comfortable in the easy serenity of the moral cons that they ran. The others all thought that he had the most dangerous aspects of the cons, but what they didn't realize was that Eliot's role in the team was nothing compared to what he had done previously to gain the reputation that eventually led him to becoming a member of the group of thieves. He was stronger than this.

But that still didn't stop him from stumbling as he stood up from the now cooling body of the Butcher of Kiev.

'Good riddance,' Eliot thought after he finished what he should have done years ago in that fiery Russian barn.

He realized that the others were still watching him wearily. Therefore, he allowed himself to form a flame in his mind, letting it grow and consume everything until there was nothing but focus left to struggle with. Once he had voided his mind of everything that was unnecessary he grabbed his blades and began to free the others with a pair of cutters that he found nearby. The group reacted pretty much how he expected them to. Sophie was visibly uncomfortable, though she tried to hide it from him, while Hardison looked downright terrified of him. He knew he deserved it, after all he showed the team what he truly was tonight and he did it fully with the knowledge that there would be repercussions. But he couldn't worry about that now – the team wasn't safe yet. After freeing Parker, who simply looked at him with the same slightly crazed look in her eye that she always had, Eliot went to work on Nate's wrists. He could feel Nate's eyes trying to analyze his blood-soaked body, without success. Nate even asked him if he was alright, and though the multitude of fresh wounds scattered across his body were screaming a resounding yes across his mind, he simply shook off the question with his usual tough front. He saw that Nate wanted to press the issue, but luckily the man realized that there were more important issues to address first.

Eliot quickly grabbed the weapons from the corpses littered across the floor and headed towards the team. He looked at Parker first, seeing as she was the most unaffected by the current situation, but quickly decided against giving her a weapon, as she looked at the rifle with an eager longing that made Eliot more than a little apprehensive. Hardison wasn't an option at all – not only was the man a terrible shot but he was also clearly in shock. Therefore he went to the only two people that he knew he could count on to remain somewhat collected during the rest of the escape. Sophie took her rifle hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable being around him. Nate on the other hand accepted the gun with a resignation and gratitude that surprised the young hitter. Eliot had assumed that Nate would be appalled by the level of violence that Eliot had shown tonight – after all, Nate was an honest man, a white hat if you will, and Eliot hadn't been honest since he was old enough to lie to the hospital about his frequent 'accidents'. However, Nate looked as if he knew what was coming before it had happened. But then again maybe he did. Nate was always several steps ahead of the game.

Eliot then walked to the door of the prison. Every step felt more labored than the one before, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind, focusing on listening for the sounds of opposition from the next room. Satisfied that reinforcements weren't immediately waiting for them, Eliot turned towards the others. He gave the others a glare that would melt stone, silently forcing them to understand what they were about to face and what they needed to be prepared for. Issuing them an order to stay behind him he opened the door and stepped through, never once looking back at the dead killer lying in a slowly congealing pool of his own blood. He didn't wait for the others to follow him. He knew that they would.

The scene waiting for them looked like something out of a Quentin Tarantino film. The blood was every where. It made walking difficult, as the ground was slick with it. Bodies were everywhere, the faces of the dead soldiers contorted in masks of fear and pain. Not all of the bodies were whole though, and severed limbs were strewn haphazardly among the human carnage. Eliot could feel the others behind him as they took in the scene that was worse than any nightmare they had ever imagined. A scene that Eliot barely glanced at, having been far too used to such violent images to be affected by them any longer.

Sophie was in shock. Unable to mask her feelings in the face of such human destruction she stood there with a look of poor horror on her face. She couldn't help but look towards Eliot in a uncomprehending disbelief, only then realizing how dangerous the man truly is.

Even Parker looked as if the scene affected her. She stood there, taking in the gore with an unnatural timidness. She may have faced more than most during her short-lived career as a thief, but she had never faced anything like this.

Nate couldn't believe his eyes. He thought he knew violence – after all, he chased professional criminals for a living before becoming one himself – but this was on a level beyond his wildest imagination. He felt as if he had just stepped into the aftermath of a war zone, which was pretty much the case. Nate looked at Eliot as if he was seeing him for the first time, having trouble to reconcile what he thought he knew about the hitter with the information assaulting his senses at every turn.

And Hardison.... Hardison was freaking out. He couldn't believe that this much violence was actually humanely possible. As he was gaping at the horror surrounding him he felt something soft and wet beneath his foot. Looking down he saw that it was a severed hand, covered in blood and the end of it looking at if it had been forcibly torn from the rest of the arm. That was it! Hardison scrambled to back away from the hand, only trip over another body behind him. As he began to crawl away from the corpse he looked at his hands, now drenched in blood. It was too for him to handle. He suddenly started emptying his stomach over the red-stained floor, visibly shaking while he did so.

Eliot saw Hardison topple over the corpse of a dead mafioso and began to have a panic attack. He reached him just as the man just as he finished vomiting and pulled the young hacker to his feet. Hardison looked up at him in relief before realizing that it was Eliot helping him. He quickly jerked him arm out of his grasp and backed away from him until Nate grabbed him to steady him.

Eliot felt as if Hardison had physically slapped him. Looking at the terror on the young man's face affirmed to Eliot that the group would never be able to accept him after what he had done. The others may have spent their lives breaking the law and taking what didn't belong to them but they never hurt any one.

Eliot was a killer.

While the others may boast about who they had conned or what priceless items they had stolen, Eliot never did. He hinted at his past and slipped the mysterious statement here and there about his career, but he never gave the others the specifics of what he had done. Because all he really had to prove his career was a body count.

It was becoming harder to walk now – his breathe was coming out in labored gasps and the only thing holding him up was his own stubbornness. He could feel himself starting to fade – vision was dimming and his mind was beginning to fog. But throughout all of the pain hazing his thoughts there was still one thing that was caught in his mind that was undeniably clear,

'Hold it together, the team is almost safe'.

That thought anchored his senses and kept him going. As he forced himself to move forward he automatically scanned the surrounding area for unseen dangers. Upon reaching a giant whole within the outer wall of the complex he was relieved to hear nothing beyond it. Not only was the area clear of more foot soldiers to deal with, but he also couldn't hear any sirens approaching them. Not that he was surprised, since the Butcher most likely chose this location for its secluded anonymity.

He could see the van he had 'borrowed' from his would-be kidnappers parked slightly off to the right under the shadow of an adjacent building. As he reached for the handle to the side door he could see the others following closely behind him. All of them were out of their elements, though he could tell that Nate was still obviously wondering where Eliot had gotten the vehicle from. Rather than explaining it to the ex-insurance agent, Eliot fixed Nate with a look that made it clear that he shouldn't worry about it and instead said to him, "I think that you should drive, Boss".

He stated it as a suggestion, though both of them knew that it wasn't open to negotiation. As Nate climbed into the driver's seat, Eliot herded the rest of the team into the back of the van. The others practically fell over each other in trying to force themselves past him. He offered a hand to help Sophie into the van, but she couldn't bring herself to touch him, instead grasping the side of the van and crawling into the van on her hands and knees. Eliot sighed, but understood her hesitation. Why wouldn't she be disgusted by him when he was disgusted by himself. Tonight he had shown the team the part of him that he had never wanted them to see. The part of him that he was fighting to bury as he worked with the them for a greater good. But now he knew that the violence would always be a part of him.

No matter how hard he tried to hide it.

As he climbed painfully into the back of the van, the last of his strength seemed to have finally left him. He collapsed violently to the floor of the van, coughing violently as he did so. As the adrenaline drained out of his body he could feel himself begin to go into shock. It was almost over... almost. With the last of his strength, Eliot opened his eyes and forced himself to sit up. Pain immediately ripped through his torso as he felt something tear and the slow trickle of blood that was slowly beginning to stain the ground of the stolen van. As Nate looked at him he began to shift the vehicle into gear and gunned the accelerator, silently deciding that the beaten hitter needed a hospital.

As if reading his thoughts, Eliot called out to him, his voice ragged and course, "No hospital, Nate".

"Eliot, I don't think that we can take care of you back at the office," Nate tried to reason with him, not believing that Eliot would survive without professional medical attention.

"We can't go back to the office either," Eliot told him quietly, not wanting to alert the others who were now huddled together in the far end of the van's interior. "Head to my apartment, I have everything I need to patch myself up there and you'll be safe," He replied tiredly.

Nate looked as if he wanted to protest this, clearly not believing that the young man would be able to treat himself after everything that he had been through; however, after looking at the blood-drenched hitter that had just gone through hell to save his life, he knew that he couldn't refuse him. He nodded to Eliot to let him know that he would follow his directions. Eliot for his part barely acknowledged Nate, his strength finally failing him. As he leaned back against the cool metal of the van's interior, he risked a glance towards the others. They were clearly terrified of not only what had happened, but of him. He knew that the group would never be able to look at him the same ever again. He lamented that fact but he didn't regret his decisions that night. His family may reject him but at least they were safe. He protects the team from everything, no matter what it may cost him.

With that last thought running through his head, Eliot's eyes begin to close. He's tired, so tired. Finally after all of the violence that he had endured that night, Eliot allowed himself to relax – his team, his family was finally secure.

Then everything went dark.


	10. Safety

I just wanted to thank everyone that has supported this story so far, the feedback has been amazing. I know I haven't updated in a while but I have very limited internet abilities here in Arezzo, Tuscany and just got back from a long weekend in Dublin, so I have been busy. Keep letting me know what you think and I will do my best to accommodate you.

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"Alright Eliot, what's your address?" Nate asked Eliot, having decided that he would follow the damaged man's decision. Now Nate was only concerned with reaching their destination as quickly as possible, in order to see the extent of the young southerner's injuries.

All he heard from behind him was silence.

"Eliot?" Nate ventured hesitantly, praying to hear a low growl telling him to just mind the road. When he failed to hear anything from the retrieval specialist he risked a glance behind him.

Eliot was lying unconscious against the side of the van, the last of his strength apparently having left him. Nate was immediately concerned, calling out to him in an attempt to wake him. When that failed he looked to Sophie, fear and worry cascading from his eyes in a waterfall of torment. She immediately understood the anxiety that Nate was feeling and acting quickly, crawled over from the corner where she and the rest of the team was huddled to check on him.

"Nate, he's still breathing," Sophie quickly told him as she listened to the pained gasps that the injured man was making. As she studied Eliot's chest for signs of movement, she suddenly became aware of a growing wetness spreading by her knees. As she reached down to find the cause of it, she pulled her hand back to reveal blood on her hands, the crimson hue shining palely in the light of the passing street lamps.

Eliot's blood.

It was then that Sophie realized how badly the soft-spoken cowboy had been injured during his suicide mission to save them. He had taken this punishment for them. Had been prepared to die for them. Despite how uneasy she felt over the violence she had seen in Eliot tonight, she had to push all of her own misgivings away and focus on saving the man who had saved the rest of the team. There would be time dwell on them later.

"We need to take him to a hospital," She told Nate quickly, while pulling off the light jacket she was wearing and holding it against where she assumed the worst of his injuries were. She was no field medic though – that was where Eliot usually took over.

"Eliot said no hospitals," Nate replied forcefully, though clearly not happy with the decision, "He said he can take care of this on own." Sophie was about to make a retort to him when Nate suddenly called out, "Hardison!"

The young hacker looked up from where he was huddled with Parker in the back of the van, pulled out of his shock induced oblivion by Nate's harsh cry.

"Yeah," Hardison quickly replied, an uneasy jumpiness in his voice as he was still trying to process everything that had happened that night.

"Do you still have your phone on you?" Nate asked him with an urgency that Hardison couldn't currently understand.

"Huh, what?" Hardison replied, not sure what his phone could have to do with anything after everything that had happened.

Nate could see that Hardison was deeply in shock and having trouble comprehending what was going on. He could sympathize with the young man, but he didn't have time to waste, as the team's hitter was slowly bleeding to death in the back of a stolen van. "Do you still have your phone or not!" He inquired, imbuing his voice with his no-nonsense tone that he used when he had keep the younger members focused and in line – a tone he never thought that he would have used again after Sam died.

"Yeah, I still got it. I guess they didn't think to empty my pockets on account of the whole being-tied-up-with-barbed-wire thing," Hardison rambled, still not sure why Nate cared about his phone at the moment.

"Good. I need you to look up Eliot's address ASAP."

Hardison looked confused for a minute, most likely not understanding why the team was heading there, instead of a hospital or the office, but he pulled out his phone and began to work his magic. While Nate was waiting for Hardison to look up the information he was immediately reminded of how much he had failed Eliot. All of the others not only knew where the rest of the team lived but had been to each other's homes on multiple occasions, for double-dates and movie nights, or a simple after-dinner drink. However, none of them knew where Eliot lived, even though Nate suspected that Eliot knew where their homes were. It surprised Nate sometimes, how much importance Eliot placed on information. He was always the first one of the group to memorize the details of a new case and was constantly going out unrequested to do reconnaissance work while the others were involved in their own personal relationships. Then again, tonight showed him just how impossible Eliot's profession truly was. Eliot took on an army today and walked away the lone survivor. It had to have taken a great deal of planning done incredibly quickly to have achieved that. They had all seen Eliot as simply a hitter that could fight his way out of anything. Now though, Nate realized what distinguished a basic hitter from a world-class retrieval specialist was the ability to use any information to one's advantage and think strategically. That's how Eliot could distinguish between knife-fighting styles by sight or weapons by the sound of their discharge – because he understood how important that information could be later on in his career.

Eliot understood that every piece of information was something that could one day save his life.

Suddenly Nate's musing were cut short as Hardison told Nate that he found the address. Surprisingly, Eliot was actually living in an address that was only a couple of miles down the waterfront. Nate quickly headed towards the directions Hardison gave him, accelerating well past the speed limit, in an attempt to reach their destination that much faster.

After an interminably long five minutes the van arrived at what appeared to be a run-down dock in an abandoned section of the city. Nate had Hardison check the address again, but Hardison assured Nate that this was the place. The building looked condemned – it barely seemed to be standing upright – and Nate couldn't believe that any one, let alone a professional thief that had made millions within his distinguished career, would want to live there.

"What do we do now?" Sophie asked, seeing as Eliot was still lying unconscious on the floor of the van, his head now resting in the British woman's lap as she continued to apply pressure against the still-bleeding wounds.

"ELIOT!" Nate shouted towards the young hitter, attempting to rouse him from his unmoving state. When that failed, he tried once more, this time reaching down to lightly shake the man while doing so.

Still no result.

Just as Nate was starting to give up and take Eliot to the hospital despite his earlier protests, Parker quietly left Hardison's side and crawled over to the injured man's side, staring at him intently. Before Nate could ask Parker what she was doing, she lashed out, unexpectedly punching Eliot in the left cheek as hard as she could.

"Parker! What the hell do you think your doing?!" Nate yelled at the blond thief while grabbing her wrist before she could strike him again.

She was about to reply when a low moan interrupted her indignant retort. The occupants of the van held their breaths in anxious anticipation as Eliot's eyes slowly began to open.

"Dammit Parker!" Eliot growled at the smiling thief, gracing Nate with a grin that could only be described as smug, "What the hell was that for?!"

"We're here," Nate quickly interjected, not wanting the thieves to get off topic, "But are you sure that this is the right place?"

Eliot took several deep breaths before climbing slowly to his knees, cradling what Nate could only assume to be several cracked or broken ribs. He looked out one of the van's windows and seemed to relax marginally upon seeing the decrepit building.

"That's the building alright," He told them softly, "Now let's get inside before we attract any unwanted attention."

Eliot then gripped the handle of the van's door and pulled it open, gritting his teeth as he did so. Nate went to help him, but Eliot shook him off - climbing painfully out of the vehicles interior and limping to the front of the building, where he walked towards what appeared to be a weed-infested former flower pot. Hissing in pain, he bent down and reached behind the cracked ceramic pot. Suddenly the imposing, broken down looking garage door of the building began to open quickly and quietly, as if the rusting opening had been installed yesterday. Eliot signaled to Nate to drive the van into the structure, which Nate began to do, as Eliot himself limped in behind it. The gate immediately shut behind them as quickly as it had opened, plunging the team into complete darkness. Just as the team was about to call out to Eliot, the room was washed in a bright industrial light, as Eliot flipped on the power to the building. The others could only look on in amazement at the interior space. Though the facade of the building was practically crumbling into the harbor, the interior was immaculately reconstructed. This main floor had been rebuilt to house several bikes, as well as Eliot's truck. Most impressively though, was a high-speed cigarette boat sitting in a wet-dock, ready to exit through a massive looking steel gate. While the team stood in awe at the cleverly designed escape plan, Eliot began to slowly climb the stairs to the apartment above the garage.

"You coming?" He asked the others, who had the decency to look ashamed for gawking at the scenery while Eliot stood there still bleeding.

They quickly made their way to follow him up the stairs, which led to a simple and spartan apartment. The group first entered a subtle living room that then adjoined a modern and well equipped kitchen. Their were no windows that the team could see, but everything was well lit with several lamps that gave off soft and warm glows around the living room and an electric fireplace that immediately sprung to life.

Eliot immediately headed towards a closed door off to the right of the kitchen, telling the others to make themselves comfortable, while he took care of things. This automatically sent up warning signals to Nate, who was still concerned with the hitter's health.

"Are you sure you don't want some help bandaging yourself up?" Nate asked him as he was about to disappear through the door.

"It's probably better if I take care of this on my own," Eliot told him softly, not wanting to put the team through further trauma. "Trust me, this isn't going to be pretty."

With that, Eliot disappeared behind the door and into the unknown bowels of the home that was as foreign to the others as its owners. The rest of the team, suddenly at a loss of what to do, began to explore to the rooms that they currently found themselves in. The kitchen, to no one's surprise, was state of the art and fully-stocked with everything that one could think to cook. Their was not only a full pantry, full of non-perishable items and ingredients, but also a small garden area in the corner of one of the counters – with fresh spices being grown with the assistance of an ultra-violet growth lamp.

The living room, by comparison, seemed practically barren. There were two matching black leather couches against the walls and an old worn recliner in front of the fire. Next to the recliner was a wooden homemade coffee table stacked high with piles of books. Glancing at the titles, Nate was surprised to find everything from old western adventure stories mixed in with James Joyce and _The Art of War_. There were also several magazines on cars, bikes, and martial arts, as well as manuals detailing various types of firearms. The last group momentarily confused Nate, before he realized that though Eliot may not like guns he still needs to have an understanding of them, in order to effectively counter attacks with them.

Just as Nate was putting back one of the manuals he heard a scream immediately followed by a crash from the room that Eliot entered. Without thinking, he raced to the door, with the others falling in step behind him. Throwing open the door, none of them were prepared for what they were about to see.

Eliot was sitting in a metal chair that was bolted to a tiled floor with a steel drain in the center of it. He had a pair of surgical tongs in his hand and was currently attempting to dig a bullet out of his own side, practically screaming in pain as he did so. The floor was coated in his blood and Eliot had already attached a transfusion bag that was hanging off of a peg in to ceiling to an IV that he had put into his arm himself. The scene proved to be too much for Sophie and Hardison to handle, both of whom immediately left the room, paling as they did so. Parker and Nate remained – the latter in awe at the level of pain that his enigmatic fighter could endure, while the former simply observing him with the intensity that she would devote to a priceless artifact she was about to steal. Without warning, Eliot gave one final agonized scream before ripping the forceps in his hand out of his side, taking a small caliber bullet out with them. Dropping the bullet and instrument to the floor, Eliot took a moment to collect himself before grabbing a needle and thread from a nearby table and calmly and quietly stitching his own side back together. He made no sound as he did so, almost as if he had used up all of his pain in actually removing the bullet. Nate could only stand their and gape at the young man stoically piecing himself back together. Since Eliot was shirtless, he could see the multitude of scars littering his body, a testament to the means in which Eliot acquired his surgical dexterity. After what seemed an eternity to Nate, Eliot finished with the stitching and cut the thread using his teeth, the excess trailing down his blood and sweat stained body. He was pale and practically shaking from pain and exhaustion by this point, but he still wasn't finished. Grabbing a pressure wrap from the table, he began binding his ribs together. Nate watched the hitter's face contort in pain as he was forced to apply pressure his broken ribs, in order to reposition them. By the time Eliot had finished binding his ribs and bandaging the gunshot wound with fresh dressing, it looked as if he was about to pass out in the chair. He didn't even bother dealing with the slash to his chest or the other multitude of this cuts littered across his body, no longer having the energy to continue.

Grabbing the IV bag from its peg on the ceiling, Eliot stumbled out of the chair and headed through another door in the back of his makeshift operating room. Following him, Nate saw that this door led to a modest-sized bedroom with a dresser and a queen-sized bed. The room was as spartan as the rest of the apartment, but it didn't seem to bother Eliot, who attached the bag to a peg on the wall before carefully climbing into the bed. It seemed that the specialist dead to the world at that point. But just as Nate was about to turn around and leave Eliot spoke from behind closed eyes, the pain and exhaustion evident in his voice,

"Sorry about how this went down, boss."

With that Eliot finally succumbed to his own exhaustion and let the conscious world slip away. Nate slipped out of the room, once again finding himself in the blood-soaked triage room. Staring at the red liquid slowly spiraling down the drain in the floor, Nate couldn't help but wonder what Eliot meant by his apology. What had happened before Eliot had shown up to rescue them? Why couldn't the team return to the offices that were a second home to the entire team? He needed answers, but unfortunately the only one who knew them was lying in a makeshift hospital bed in the next room. Looking down Nate saw the still bloody bullet lying in a pool of blood next to the chair. Picking it up, Nate came to a decision. He needed answers. He went to find Hardison and begin finding the truth.

No matter how much he was afraid of what he would find.


	11. The Truth

I have too apologize for taking so long to update. I have been dealing with a myriad of problems (my computer's graphic card decided to become schizophrenic and frequently and unexpectedly crash my entire system) that have been delaying from posting. But I am still here and having almost recovered from Halloween weekend in Amsterdam, I should have the next chapter up much sooner. Till then, please keep reading and making comments and suggestions. Thanks.

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Nate stepped out of the bloody operating room to find his team huddled upon one of the black leather couches against the wall. Hardison had Parker wrapped within his arms as if he never planned on letting her go again, while Parker looked content to simply bury her face in Hardison's shirt. She might have simply been worn out from the long ordeal that the team had just escaped from, or maybe she was trying to forget the memories of watching Eliot, a man that had become part of the first real family that she had ever had rip a still cooling bullet from a ragged hole in his own side. If so, Nate could sympathize with her, since he knew that it was an image that would haunt his subconscious. More than ever he felt the burning need to drown himself in a haze of scotch.

That is, until he saw Sophie.

She was sitting on the same couch as the younger couple, though she seemed completely lost in her own thoughts. Huddled against the edge of the couch, with arms wrapped around legs that were pulled tight against her chest, she look so lost and unsure, so unlike the playful grifter and lover that Nate was accustomed to.

Immediately he made is way towards her, needing to comfort her and chase away the lost look gracing her stunning features. He sat down cautiously on the arm of the couch next to her and tentatively pulled her towards him. She immediately responded by allowing herself to be enveloped in his steadfast comfort and support. Nate could feel her shaking slightly and he began rubbing her back in slow circular patterns – something he knew relaxes her when she was particularly stressed. It eventually worked, with Sophie beginning to clear her head, under the influence of Nate's soothing presence. As he felt her begin to calm under his care, Nate spared another glance at the two young thieves next next to him on the couch. Hardison was stroking Parker's hair and quietly mumbling into Parker's ear – what he was saying Nate couldn't say, though judging by the dazed and haunted look upon his face he guessed that it had to do with what he had seen tonight.

'They all look so lost,' thought Nate, who realized that he probably looked no better than they did at the moment. He was still reeling from not only the intensity of their brutal escape from the Russian mob, but from also watching Eliot nearly bleed to death before his very eyes. He realized that the team needed something to do, or they would be consumed by the memories of what they had just seen and experienced. Furthermore, Nate could still hear the words of apology right before he passed out, as well as Eliot's cryptic message that had them now hiding in his home, which in reality was a safe-house for the team to retreat to.

His mind made up, Nate suddenly stood. His unexpected movements jolted Sophie from her exhaustion and caused her, as well as Parker and Hardison to quickly look to him in alarm.

"Hardison," Nate addressed the young hacker, who suddenly looked as if he expected to see the Butcher of Kiev to burst through the wall in front of him with blades flashing, "I need you to work on finding the surveillance tapes from the office."

"Huh? How do you expect me to do that?" Hardison asked, beginning what Nate knew to be the start of a long and flustered rambling.

"I mean, look at this place, the man doesn't even have a TV for Pete sake! - You know what, ya'll don't understand just what it takes for me to do what I do. Give me the right equipment and I can tell you what color underwear the first lady is wearing, but it ain't magic! I can't just sit in this prehistoric cave and make miracles happen by rubbing two sticks together. Does the man even have an email address?"

By the time Hardison had finished his rant he was practically red in the face and shaking from the pent up emotions that he had been attempting to bury along with the memories of earlier. Clearly the young man was upset, but Nate didn't have time to indulge his hysterics at that moment. After all, the team had just been captured by the Russian mob and then subsequently rescued by one of their own – who barely managed to survive the ordeal.

Nate needed information and he needed it fast.

Therefore, looking towards the hacker, Nate pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to collect himself before asking him, "Alright, what's the fastest way to get the equipment that you need to get those files?"

Hardison looked at Nate liked he'd grown a second head before confusedly telling him, "Going back to the office and downloading them directly." He said this as if it was the most obvious answer and Nate had to keep from biting his tongue in frustration.

"Listen, Eliot told me that we can't go back to the office and I need to know why," Nate told both Hardison and the two con-women who were now paying attention to him with unwavering attention. "Something happened tonight before Eliot found us and we need to know what if we are going to clean this mess up."

"How exactly did Eliot find us, Nate," Sophie quietly asked, voicing the question that had been dancing in the back of each thieves' mind since the escape.

"That is one of the things I am hoping to find out," Nate addressed to Sophie, his mind whirling at full speed, imagining an endless number of plausible and disturbing possibilities. "Hardison?!"

Nate turned to Hardison to see him playing with some program on his phone, his entire countenance completely focused for once.

"Alright. We're actually not to far from the place we were eating at when we got grabbed," Hardison began to explain, "If we can get back to my car then I can grab my laptop and take care of things from here."

He looked expectantly towards Nate, who found himself weighing the pros and cons of that idea. On one hand, Nate didn't like the idea of splitting up at the moment, especially with the team still uncertain of the dangers that could be facing them. But on the other hand, not only did Nate need to see those surveillance tapes, but it would also allow them to recover their vehicles before any one happened to notice them and start asking questions.

God Nate needed a drink right then.

It was at a moment like this that Nate would have looked towards Eliot, to have him offer his technical expertise and aid him in gauging the level of risk.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't ask Eliot because Eliot was lying on what could have possibly been his death bed ... all because he chose to place the lives of his teammates over his own.

Suddenly Nate knew what he had to do. Gathering as much confidence as he could muster, under the current circumstances, Nate stepped once again into the position of the infallible mastermind.

"All right gang, here's the plan. Hardison, Parker, and I will take the van that Eliot 'acquired', retrieve our cars, and return here as fast as possible." The group, Hardison especially, looked as if they were going to object to this idea, but Nate instantly silenced them with a look that told them that this plan was non-negotiable. He then turned to Sophie.

"Sophie, you're going to stay here and watch over Eliot while we are gone." Sophie didn't look particularly excited with her instructions, but she nodded her consent... trusting Nate to make the right decision.

With nothing left to say on the matter, the team began to head towards the door, but not before Nate walked back over to Sophie, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. As he was pulling away from her, her eyes still closed in an attempt to hold on to the moment, she was shocked to feel the weight of one the dead thugs' assault rifles being slung over her shoulder. She could only look at Nate with wide eyes, who responded to her uncertain gaze.

"If we don't return, or if any but one of the three of us tries to make it up those stairs, you need to survive. You need to survive. I love you."

Then he turned from her without another word and headed towards to garage with the others. He didn't want to leave her – his mind was screaming at him not to let her out of his sight – but he had to. Out of all of them she made the most sense to stay. Hardison was too affected by the events from earlier to be left alone with Eliot, and Parker was not only more used to high-adrenaline scenarios than Sophie, but she would also be able to provide comfort and support for Hardison. As Nate climbed into the driver's seat of the van and opened the door to the hideout, Nate just hoped that he would make it back to see her again.

Seeing the van again filled Hardison with a sense of dread that he thought wouldn't be possible after all he had been through so far that night. But seeing it just reminded him that it belonged to men that had tried to kill him. As Parker threw open the door and climbed in Hardison saw her flinch for a moment, before continuing on as if nothing had happened. As Hardison began to crawl into the vehicle's interior he suddenly understood why.

The floor of the van was coated in blood – Eliot's blood.

He paled ... suddenly transported back to that warehouse, stepping over severed hands and mutilated corpses... the moans of agony and pain of men still slowly bleeding to death, blood coating his hands and his clothes, he could barely...

*SLAP*

Instantly Hardison was dragged out of his nightmare and holding his left cheek, which was now sporting a delicate-looking hand print. He looked over to Parker who simply shrugged before dragging him past the blood and into the back of the van, where she immediately melded her lips to his. They held each other tightly, never letting go as the stolen van left the safety of its sanctuary and blended into the shadows of the night.

Sophie held her breath as she heard the van leave Eliot's safe house, hugging herself loosely and wishing that it was Nate's arms around her instead of her own. With the others gone, she suddenly found herself uncertain about what she should be doing. She couldn't just sit and do nothing without worrying about the others and dwelling on what had already happened, but she didn't feel right about poking around the belongings of a man who placed such a high value upon his privacy. It was then that she took a closer look at her hands – they were stained with blood.

She immediately rushed into the room separating her from Eliot's recovery room, desperate to use the industrial sink that she had seen there when she briefly entered with the others. Reaching it, she completely immersed herself in the task of scrubbing the offense reminder of earlier off of her perfectly manicured hands. It wasn't until she had removed the last of the offending liquid staining her hands that she truly realized where she was.

She was in a room coated in Eliot's blood.

There was blood every where. Not only was is congealing in dark puddles upon the floor, but Sophie could see it sprayed upon the walls as well. Worst of all, was the chair where Eliot had performed his 'surgery'. It was completely drenched, with small continuous streams of the liquid slowly dripping down the sides and forming crimson pools at its feet. Sophie could only gaze in horror at the amount of blood covering the room.

Blood that all came from Eliot.

Without thinking twice, she turned and left the trauma room as soon as possible, heading through the door that led to where Eliot was hopefully recovering.

Sophie had to see him. She had to make sure that he was alright.

Stopping short of his bed, she was taken back by just how damaged the retrieval specialist looked – how fragile he looked. In her mind, Eliot was invincible – a force of nature that left nothing stand in it's path. She had seen him hurt before, of course, but nothing that compared to this. Half of the time she couldn't even tell how badly he had been hurt, since he would just give the team a heated glare and tell them that he's fine. But this time he was lying in a bed covered in blood-soaked bandages as beads of sweat covered his body from the fever wracking his worn out body and exhausted psyche. Sophie had never seen Eliot look so helpless. She reached out to touch his forehead and attempt to comfort him, but she couldn't. Right as she was about to place her hand upon him, Eliot jerked and Sophie involuntarily flinched, moving herself away from the injured man.

She was afraid of him.

The thought saddened her, but as Eliot suddenly began to struggle in the bed – fighting the monsters of his fever-riddled dreams – Sophie couldn't help but a feel a sudden chill lodge itself in the pit of her stomach. The events of earlier had shown her just how dangerous Eliot truly was. She thought back to one of the team's earliest jobs together. They had just saved Corporal Perry from Castleman's hitters and were discussing the new level of danger that the con presented. She remembered the rest of the team telling Nate that they didn't hurt people, they stole things.

Every one but Eliot.

Eliot had looked at the rest of the team and quietly announced that he actually hurt people. At the time Sophie had really considered that statement. She knew that Eliot lived in a much more violent criminal world than she did, but she had never truly thought about what that world entailed. After what she had seen then, her perspective on the soft-spoken cowboy, who was a culinary master and always kept the office stocked with her favorite English Breakfast tea, was shaken to its core. She wanted to still see her gentile protector, but flashes of carnage from the warehouse assaulted her consciousness.

Before she could dwell on it any longer, she heard what she hoped to be the sound of the others returning. Rushing towards the stairs, she was relieved to see Nate ascending them with Hardison and Parker following closely behind. She immediately embraced Nate, holding him as if she never planned on letting him go.

Meanwhile, Parker and Hardison made their way towards the coffee table, where Hardison quickly began dancing his fingers across the keyboard, eager to find the footage – and terrified of actually watching it. After less than ten minutes, Hardison had rerouted a satellite to pirate an internet signal and downloaded the surveillance footage from his server. He called Nate and Sophie, who anxiously stood next to the other couple, as Hardison pressed play upon his laptop. At first they saw nothing particularly exciting, just Eliot sitting alone watching some sports match in the conference room. If the team noticed how despondent and lonely he looked then they chose not to comment. Hardison nervously forwarded through the tape, stopping when it appeared that Eliot had heard something coming from the door. The others held their breaths as they watched Hardison bring up multiple screens so the team could not only track Eliot's movements, but also see the armed contingent of men that had come for him. As the door opened, Nate could only grasp Sophie's hand, knowing what was coming next. The team stood routed in shock as they watched Eliot efficiently and ruthlessly kill all but the man that they presumed to be the leader of the group. The cameras were state-of-the-art and the team got to view the destruction in high def quality and crystal clear sound. They watched as Eliot dragged the unconscious leader into the conference room before disappearing into his office. They couldn't see what he was doing then, since Eliot's office was the only part of the Leverage office that wasn't monitored. Eliot had made it clear to Hardison that his office was off limits. Soon Eliot returned with a box that none of the team had ever seen before. Taking it with him into the conference room, he quickly removed several pairs of handcuffs from it that he used to shackle the unconscious man to a chair against the wall. From there, the team could only gasp in horror and fear at the interrogation that soon followed. They had never seen Eliot so cold.

It was his eyes that truly scared them.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Eliot's eyes were completely void of emotion. It was then that they saw Eliot the killer, the man whose very name could strike fear into some of the most violent and depraved men on Earth. Even Parker had to look away at the end when the man slowly and painfully died – his screams permanently etching themselves into each teammates subconscious.

When it was over the team could only stare in a quiet disbelief, not sure how to process what they had just seen. Nothing had prepared them for witnessing the depths to which Eliot was prepared to go to, in order to protect them.

Hardison looked as if he was about to be sick again. He was pale and shaking slightly as he held onto Parker.

Parker was for once at a loss what to do next. Normally she could face anything head-on, but she couldn't face this. Eliot was one of them, one of the good guys. But none of them were capable of that... were they?

Sophie had buried her face against Nate's chest, unable to face what she had just seen. She had never even contemplated such cruelty and violence, and seeing Eliot be the cause of it was more than she could take.

And Nate... Nate was at a loss. He had heard stories about what Eliot was capable of, but he had never heard of anything even remotely approaching this. Eliot had tortured a man to death in order to find them, in order to save them. Nate's mind was reeling and it suddenly became too much. More than anything right now he needed a drink – needed to drown the memories of what he had just witnessed. Still suffering from the shock of the footage the only coherent thought that Nate could manage was to softly mutter, "Eliot, what did you do?"

"What I had to Nate,"

The entire team whipped around suddenly at hearing the unexpected answer. Behind them Eliot was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, watching the team with an unreadable expression.

"What I had to."


	12. Lies

I feel that I have to apologize for my absence these last few months. A lot of things have happened to me, mostly involving not having a computer for two months. But I am fully back now and plan on finishing this story quickly. Thank you for continuing to read and support this story and I promise that you will be reading more of it soon. I also want to apologize for the short length of this update, but this just felt like the right place to stop, at the moment.

They all stood frozen at the sight of Eliot before them – leaning away from the group with his side supported by the kitchen counter. Eliot regarded them with an icy stare that gave away nothing. There was no apology in his eyes, no explanation in his countenance.

It was Nate that recovered first.

The mastermind could initially only stare at the man that he had witnessed perform unspeakable acts of violence. Taking in his guarded appearance he could only begin to imagine what the young retrieval expert was thinking. The fact that he was even up and walking about was a testament to the man's unrelenting spirit. After the initial shock of seeing Eliot wore off, Nate began to notice things.

First... he saw that Eliot was fully dressed in black, as if he was about to begin a job;

Second... Eliot was guarding his injured side carefully and had beads of sweat beginning to break out on his forehead. The man was trying to hide the fact that he was still seriously wounded.

Eliot seemed to regard the group for a moment, before sighing softly to himself and slowly pushing himself off the counter. His face continued to remain unreadable, though his body language was tense. Nate watched the long-haired specialist then turn from the group and slowly walked towards the exit, each agonizing labor hid behind an icy blue stare.

As much as the rejection hurt him, he wasn't surprised by their reactions. Normal people can't look at torture without feeling sick... and now they couldn't look at him without thinking of the man that he had tortured.

His side was on fire as he slowly descended down the stairs towards the garage. He tried to ignore it. Ignore the flames ignited after each breath, just as he ignored the long dull ache that had settled into the bottom of his heart as he saw the faces of his teammates looking at him in fear and horror. Instead he tried to focus on the mission at hand – he took all of his pain and pushed down far within him, where he wouldn't have to deal with it until he was once again laying in an empty and sterile bed, with only the darkness for company.

As Eliot was slowly hoisting several dark canisters into the back of the van, he suddenly felt a pair of eyes staring a hole into the back of his head. Turning as quickly as his injuries would allow him, he was only mildly surprised to see Parker looking at him from the top of the stairs, her head cocked to one side and an expression gracing her features that she normally had right before she did something completely crazy and dangerous.

Is that what talking to him had become?

"Where are you going?" Parker asked without warning, her body language tense as she waits for an answer.

Eliot paused slightly, before looking the lithe blond thief directly in her clear blue eyes, "I'm going to take care of things."

"Can I come and help?" She meekly inquired, though with a hint of that craziness that makes Eliot truly believe that something is wrong with her.

"This isn't something you want to see, Parker," Eliot told her seriously, wondering what possible reason for wanting to come with him.

Parker looked at Eliot then with an almost vulnerable expression when she looked at him and asked quietly, "When are you coming back?"

Eliot almost felt the urge to hug the young girl at that point – she was clearly worried that he was leaving and wanted to tag along with him to make sure that he came back. Everyone on the team had issues – you had to in order to thrive in the world that they lived in. Apparently, Parker had issues with abandonment.

"I'll be back soon, Darlin'" Eliot told her softly, giving her the ghost of a smile.

"Promise?" Parker asked quietly.

"I promise."

With that Eliot put the last canister in the van and slammed the door shut. Giving one last glance at Parker he climbed into the driver's seat and slowly eased the van out of the garage. As the door closed, he couldn't help but think of the rest of the team. All of them were damaged in some way. It's what gave them the skills to do what they do.

Thinking back to his own childhood, Eliot couldn't help but remember what he been forced to learn at such a young age, when he learned how cruel the world truly was.

As the safe house began to fade into the background of the dark night, he was thankful for one skill he learned the importance of early on...

The ability to lie.


	13. Cleaning House

The story is still alive! I have been bogged down by the issues of real life for the longest time but I have not forgotten this story those of you have been so patiently waiting for it to continue. I want to thank all of you who have reviewed and asked for more. It was your positive words that have allowed me to continue.

The others watched quietly as Parker followed Eliot into the garage, waiting to see what would happen. A part of each of them wanted to follow the young thief down, but none of them could seem to force themselves to move from where they had remained frozen after seeing Eliot appear before them.

Luckily, they didn't have to wait long.

Parker walked quietly back into the apartment, apparently lost within her thoughts. She made her way over to the group and sat down silently next to Hardison, not making eye contact with any of them.

Curiosity mingled with apprehension in Sophie as she watched the young thief, who simply continued to stare at the back wall, not really focusing on anything in particular. Curiosity at what Parker and Eliot had discussed... and apprehension at what Parker may have learned.

Eventually, curiosity won.

"Parker," The British woman began hesitantly, "Where did Eliot go?"

At being addressed, Parker suddenly looked to the group around her, as if she was just then realizing that they were there. "He said he was going to take care of things," She answered simply, offering no elaboration. That statement seemed to confuse the rest of the crew, except for Nate, who simply gave the rest of them a sad, haunted look before heading into the pantry in search of a bottle of... well of anything at this point.

"Take care of things?" Hardison exclaimed frantically, "What the hell does that mean?"

The ride back to the offices was made in silent contemplation, as Eliot focused most of his energy on remaining conscious. He attempted to use meditation to center his concentration, but serenity seemed to elude him as he stared out into the endless darkness that was only marred by the occasional street lamp. The wound in his side throbbed painfully in time to his heartbeat, while every imperfection in the poorly paved road sent a sharp row of thorns deeper into his torso. However, he barely acknowledged the pain, instead fixating on the images from earlier that assaulted him at every turn. Whenever he sought the void within his mind he would see Sophie's look of horror as he untied her. Hardison would stumble away from him, flinching and shaking in terror.

Dammit, he knew this would happen.

He had thought that he could leave all of this behind him; that he had finally found a place where he could begin to make amends for all the pain that he had caused in his life. But he had been wrong. Instead he had committed a sin far worse than all of the violence that stained his past. He had hurt the only people left in his life that still cared about him ... the only people that he had ever come close to trusting. He had thrust them into the dark world that he had crawled out of bloody and damaged. And once you've experienced that Hell, it leaves you tainted. He had cost the team their innocence. There was no greater sin than that.

Thankfully the building of their offices was empty when he arrived – being still far too early for most normal people to be awake and out. Parking the procured van behind the building, near the garbage shoot, Eliot killed the engine and slowly made his way towards their offices. His body protested each movement – his joints now stiff from the van's uncomfortable seat. Reaching the destroyed front door, he walked into the area he thought of as home and swept his eyes across the carnage that he had inflicted.

He felt no remorse for his actions, only for what he knew had to happen next.

After 137 minutes, (not his best time, though acceptable, given the circumstances) the office had been restored to a version that could be considered passable. There was nothing that could be done for the destroyed doors, but by removing the evidence of the bodies and carefully rearranging the furniture to help minimize the appearance of bullet holes, the office now looked as if it had been ransacked by thieves, rather than the site of a small-scale war. The bodies, as well as the blood-soaked chair in the conference room had been wrapped in plastic wrap that Eliot had brought from his apartment and then thrown down the garbage shaft and into the back of the van.

Eliot's side burned unbearably and sweat coated his body from the effort, but he wasn't finished yet. Turning to his office, he removed every personal item that he had left there. That didn't take long. Besides a few knives that held special significance to him and the box that he had used earlier, there was nothing there that he couldn't afford to lose. Finally he sat down and wrote a quick letter to the team. Sealing the envelope and placing it on the conference table with a stack of documents, Eliot took one last look at the space surrounding him. His chest ached in a way that he hadn't felt since he left Aimee for the last time.

He sighed.

He knew that this would happen one day. It was inevitable. This is why he always worked alone... why he had always been alone. No attachments, that was the rule. He thought that he had learned his lesson after Aimee, but apparently he was a masochist at heart, craving human comfort that he had no right to... not after what he had done. In the end, he had again ended up hurting the people close to him.

He left the offices without looking back, instead focusing on the rest of the mission at hand. The objectives hadn't yet been completed. Thinking of his actions as a job helped him to compartmentalize his thoughts and focus on what he still had to do.

Climbing painfully back into the van, Eliot started the engine and began to drive the vehicle out of town. His eyes were starting to dull as the exhaustion and pain from the last 12 hours started to take precedence, but he refused to give in just yet. He kept driving, focusing on the white lines of the road as he silently passed through them.

Dawn was just breaking as Eliot pulled into an old, run down junkyard just outside of Boston. The owners of the property had retired a year ago, but the equipment was still there and still functioned. Eliot practically fell out of the driver's side, the dirt coating his knees as he struggled to stand and make his way to the van's back doors. There he opened one of the canisters that Parker had watched him place in the back. The pungent smell of gasoline assaulted him and he quickly went to work coating the interior of van. Eliot silently struck a match, watching the flame twist in the breeze for a moment before tossing it on the now gas-soaked pile of dead thugs. The flames immediately spread across their torsos, the plastic wrap crinkling and smoking as the fire burned through it to the flesh below. Eliot turned away from the very distinctive smell of burning flesh and slowly made his way to the control hub of the car crusher. With a practiced ease, Eliot swiftly grabbed the van with the machine's loading claw and lifted into the air, dropping it into the mandibles of the crusher. He hesitated slightly, entranced by the flames dancing around the burning vehicle – the flickering light drawing shadows across his face as the sun slowly made its way into the eastern sky behind him.

It's done.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Eliot started the crusher and turned to leave, ignoring the screeching sounds of metal and plastic being twisted beyond recognition. Limping away from the explosion that would inevitably occur, he made his way to a small shed in the back of the junkyard. There he made quick work of the heavy lock on the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The light from the door cut through the dust that coated the entire interior. Rusting car parts mingled with debris, forcing Eliot to tread carefully through the decaying minefield that comprised the shack's floor. In the back of the shed, partially obscured by an old golf cart, there was an old tarp covering his goal. Pulling back the tarp, Eliot was relieved to see that the Harley-Davidson Touring Ultra Classic Dyno that he had hidden a year ago was still there. It wasn't he didn't trust the team, far from it, but his life was comprised of rules – rules that had kept him alive for so long that they had ingrained themselves into a part of his core. Rules that included always having an exit strategy. This bike was just one of several emergency exits that Eliot had planned in case things went south.

And things had gone south.

Pushing the bike out of the shed, Eliot winced as his actions pulled on the stitches in his side. He had double-stitched the wound, as usual, to help prevent it from reopening, but it seems that the exertion of disposing of the bodies proved to be greater than his surgical dexterity. Eliot could feel a line of heat trickle down his torso as the fresh stitches stretched under the stress of his recent activities.

'Figures,' he thought as he felt the blood pooling at the waist of his jeans.

Ignoring the slow leaking wound in his side, Eliot quickly transfered his few possessions into the bike's saddle bags before carefully mounting the seat. As the engine purred to life, Eliot gave one last thought to Nate and the group of thieves that he had turned into an unconventional family. A family that he was now forced to leave. It was nothing new to him. Eliot had always been a loner. Whether it was a farm in the middle of the deep Kentucky south, a Special Forces unit in Somalia, or a Robin Hood crew in Boston, Eliot had experience in watching those around him suffer because of who he is and what he does. That's why the nomadic existence of a retrieval specialist had suited him – no one around him to be hurt in the collateral fallout that followed him at every turn, and no one place for the monsters that hide in the shadows of his world to find him. He wasn't meant to remain stationary.

That is why he had failed.

He had tried to become better than he was – to play the hero that he had always dreamed to be as child. But it became painfully obvious that it wasn't meant to be. Only the good guys got to be heroes. White hats like Nate, who spent his entire life trying to help people. Or Hardison, Sophie, and Parker – thieves that may not have lead honest lives, but they only stole possessions. He stole lives.

It was time to stop pretending.

With that last thought, Eliot gunned the engine and tore out of the dying junkyard, heading towards the open highway. He may be the last man of Leverage Inc., but he was the first of the last to leave.


End file.
